


men like gods

by reddy



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dark, Dark Kylo Ren, F/M, Fix-It, Gods, Resurrection, a different kind of dark, gazelle twin - men like gods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddy/pseuds/reddy
Summary: (TROS spoilers) He smiles, and there’s something both boyish and chilling in that smile, carefree and completely remorseless. He trails his knuckles down the length of her cheek. “You’re scared, my love.”
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 9
Kudos: 82





	men like gods

**Author's Note:**

> *working through my feelings about TROS*  
> (i might add more chapters, but keeping this as a oneshot for now)

Naboo is rich in color and sounds and scents.

Rey is overwhelmed. She has never seen beauty at such a prodigious scale. Sunlight fragments and pools into gold on the glittering domes dotting the city line. Deep emeralds and carmine reds remind her of jewels on a crown. The noisy waterfalls glide like silver coins off the tall cliffs. The planet resembles an old and powerful queen who is dormant for now, but who will one day rise and take her rightful place in the galaxy.

Rey thinks a lot about waking and sleep these days, the cycles of life and death, cruel and irreversible. She hasn’t been able to rest for months. She’s afraid of slipping into dreams, because his face is always there, always on the brink of death, falling away from her. She reaches for him, like clockwork, desperately clawing at his dead visage, only to wake up empty. Like sand falling through her fingers. Night after night.

She knows why she dreams such terrible dreams. It is a form of mortification. She’s atoning.

_I killed him. I killed him on the ruins of the Death Star._

When she sank the blade inside him, he was supposed to die. She gave him part of her life to heal him, but at the critical juncture of her confrontation with the Emperor, Ben gave that piece back to her.

And died.

Rey feels responsible for him in a way she could never explain to her friends. They do not understand her need to leave, but they do not try to stop her. This is why she takes this job, away from the Resistance, away from the New Republic and the centers of power. Old, forgotten Naboo, close to the Outer Rim territories, appeals to her sense of romance, not least because of the wondrous tale of Padme Amidala. It is a place which holds no memory of Ben, but which is still connected to his ancestry. 

The planet is attempting to restore itself. A process has already begun to elect a new, young queen. Rey will be part of the Queensguard when the time comes. For now, she has been charged with protecting the Council. The people of Naboo are tentatively happy to welcome a new Jedi in their ranks. Yet they do not trust her. Rey hoped to persuade them to let her train the children who exhibit Force-sensitivity, but they have not been eager to hand over their offspring. Rey understands.

She’ll wait. Bide her time.

What else does she have to do?

She still acts like a scavenger, at times, which rather exasperates the Council. She scales the rooftops expertly, having by now learned every nook and cranny. She climbs turrets and glides down domes and cupolas. She sits in the stonework of belfries and waits for the bells to ring. She loves the deep vibrations that make her bones shake and teeth clatter. She runs across the rafters of inns and counting houses and schools and libraries, small tears in her eyes, as she surveys the horizon, looking for someone who isn’t there. She feels like a child again, exploring and recovering a past self. She watches lovely black birds soar in the sky and fly over the waterfalls and she wishes she could fly with them.

She tries to live here as she used to live in the desert.

It’s only the lakes and rivers she does not explore.

Lake Country terrifies her.

She doesn’t know how to swim, never had the chance to learn. And she’s too proud to ask someone to teach her.

So many people have tried to be her teachers in this lifetime, and they’re all gone.

The Force cannot keep her afloat for too long. She always panics and sinks. Water reminds her of battle and bloodshed. Reminds her also of a deep, dark mouth where a thousand Rey’s await her return.

But she has no choice; months into her stay on the planet she is required to accompany a Councilor to Varykino for a diplomatic mission.

The island is gorgeous and lush, surrounded by luxuriant vegetation and exquisite, intricate architecture. It’s only the great expanse of water that leaves her uneasy.

Still, she cannot deny its beauty.

Rey stands on the terrace of the royal villa and watches the bevy of smaller islands in the distance, little oases tossed like sapphires and emeralds on the quiet water, slowly melting in the gentle sun.

Time seems to stop in a place like this. She feels lazy and listless, walking along the docks, admiring the giant Perlote trees, gathering nuts and fruit, eating them or tossing them into the water. She takes her lightsaber for training on the steeper hills, practices by herself for hours, feeling useful, feeling _useless_. She tries to meditate, but the regal serenity of the place actually distracts her. She almost misses the dirt and grime of Jakku. Beauty is difficult to grow accustomed to. She tries, anyway.

On the fourth day of her wanderings, she takes a boat to one of the islands, determined to navigate the waters in spite of her fears. 

It is slow-going. She lets her fingers run through the water, thinking absently of sending a message to Finn and Poe when she returns, telling them about this lovely place. Her instincts are dulled with heat and quiet, and she does not see the curious, floppy-eared creature, a child Gungan who latches onto her hand and wrist and drags her down.

Rey’s scream is enveloped by water.

She struggles against the Gungan’s grasp, but the child swims so quick and deft, drags her further below, making delighted sounds, as if he were eager to show her something.

And then his webbed fingers slip, and Rey falls to the bottom.

She sees a spray of blood gushing from the child's body. 

Rey cries out. 

She reaches out with her hand, grasping only weeds.

Her vision turns dark, blood rushes in her ears, the dark mouth opens, her mirror-sisters welcome her, as her lightsaber strikes his chest and –

Rey lets the water in.

And then she coughs it out.

Her stomach churns as water pours down her chin. It is difficult to breathe, but she does. 

She does until it stops hurting. 

A strong hand is thumping her back. Another is wrapped around her waist, forcing her to heave.

“That was pretty foolish of you.”

Rey closes her eyes.

That voice.

 _No_.

But she knew it was him before he spoke.

She must be hallucinating. She must still be underwater. In death, she can finally meet him. It must be death. 

“No, you’re not dying,” he drawls, reading her thoughts. “I didn’t give my life so you could die because of a Gungan.”

“You’re not real,” she mumbles, leaning her forehead against the sun-baked bank.

He removes his hands from her. She hears him take a few steps back, giving her space.

Rey breathes in and out. She feels the wet, scratchy pebbles under her palm. She lifts her head.

Ben is sitting on the bank, staring at the islands in the distance, dark hair billowing in the breeze.

It is him. 

Rey opens her mouth and closes it shut.

He is entirely naked. Naked as the day he was born.

His long limbs look sculpted from hard marble. Attired in his black robes he could still be abridged, could still be made to fit. Naked, he is larger than life, a towering giant. She can’t help admiring the sight. He is beautiful and _ugly_ too, awe-inspiring and fearsome.

She blushes when she thinks of what else she might see as he raises a knee.

Ben tilts his head back, as if sunbathing. He inhales sharply.

“I missed this.”

Rey wipes the water from her face. She aches to touch him, to feel his solidity, but - but it might all be a trap.

“How-? How do I know I’m not dreaming?”

Ben finally looks at her. His eyes are black and warm.

“I guess you don’t. But in your dreams, did I do this?”

Ben raises both his hands, brow bent in concentration.

At first there’s only a rumble, like laughter in the trees. Then the earth begins to groan, rocks shaking, islands quivering in the distance. Deep circles break the water’s surface and the lake begins to churn and boil until finally – finally –

Rey stands up. She covers her mouth. 

A new island emerges from the water violently, disturbing the careful panorama, waves falling over each other, reaching her shore.

Ben smiles at her astonishment.

“No. I think I only died in your dreams.”

Rey takes a few steps back. 

“I can do so much more now,” he adds, and he flicks his wrist. The bare island before them blooms and bursts with trees and flowers and seedling and shrubs, a variation of greens and pinks and yellows. 

Rey staggers on her feet. She doesn’t understand. She can’t even speak.

She feels the sudden rush of the Force surround her, the broken bond coming to life, surging hungrily, stronger than ever before. Rey can’t help a small moan. She was broken in half and now she is restored. The feeling is heady like wine.

He drags her to him with his fingers.

Rey falls against his chest with a soft thud.

Touching his bare skin makes her shiver. His heartbeat echoes against her palm. And yet there is something inhuman about his flesh. He is like nothing she imagined.

Ben looks down at her. He held her like this when she was a corpse in his arms. He held her and wept.

He smiles, and there’s something both boyish and chilling in that smile, carefree and completely remorseless. He trails his knuckles down the length of her cheek.

“You’re scared, my love.”

Rey parts her lips. “No.”

“That’s all right. I like you a little afraid.”

He grips her neck and brings her mouth to his.

When he kisses her, it feels like the water has taken her again. His mouth is hot and searing, demanding and consuming, dragging her somewhere below. Yet he is tender too, like kissing a ghost, a thing that passes through you and possesses you. His tongue is in her mouth, prying her open, drinking her life Force, almost. She kisses back, in spite of it. She has missed him so _much_ , never realized her own thirst.

When they part for a moment, he grins against her lips, as he did before he died. Yet it has a feral glint.

“Rey.”

“Ben.”

He shakes his head. “Not quite.”

Rey cranes her neck. “What do you mean?”

“I am more than Ben…more than Kylo Ren. More than Jedi, and Sith. _More_.”

Rey frowns, tries to cup his cheek, to hold him there, to feel his humanity.

But the truth is, it’s not there.

“Ben, what do you mean?”

He suddenly rises, lifting her with him in one fluid motion.

Rey clutches him in surprise. A small yelp escapes her lips.

Ben grips her to him, broad arms folding her against him. He begins walking towards the water.

He steps on the water.

He walks on its surface as if it were solid earth.

He looks like the god of the island, the god of _all_ islands, everywhere. 

Rey looks up at him in shock. “You…”

Ben smiles, beatific and terrifying. “You understand. I knew you would.”

She doesn’t. She doesn’t want to. She should be happy that he is alive, ecstatic even.

And yet – and yet –

She only wanted Ben back.

What she got instead was a god.


End file.
